Get Used to It
by Not Days but Knights
Summary: House and Wilson begin to date, only to realize how surreal it all seems. On top of that, the duo realizes how differently they have come to terms with their sexuality and therefore, how differently they planned on treating their new relationship.
1. A Nice Dinner

Get Used to It

**Pairings and Characters:** Established H/W, the rest?

**Rating: **PG-13

**Disclaimer: **House MD and related characters belong to David Shore and Fox, not me.

**Summary: **As a follow up to "Can't I Have Both?" House and Wilson begin to date, only to realize how surreal it all seems. On top of that, the duo realizes how differently they have come to terms with their sexuality and therefore, how they differently they planned on treating their new relationship.

Chapter 1

As Wilson entered the restaurant, he could not help but smile to himself in utter glee and disbelief. The room was dimly lit with candles shining on every table, and the house lights set to their lowest setting. The atmosphere itself was very cozy, and as Wilson continued to walk into the restaurant he noticed couples at nearly every table, dressed slightly formal from slacks and a tie to a nice blouse and high heels. The host greeted Wilson with a cordial smile.

"Hello, how many?" he asked, continuing to smile at Wilson.

"Two tonight," he responded, holding up two fingers.

The waiter glanced around, looking for a female companion – or any companion for that matter. Wilson shook his head slightly and responded.

"My friend's running a little bit late. Can you still seat us?" Wilson asked cautiously.

"Oh," said the waiter, recovering, "yes – yes of course, right this way, sir." 

He led Wilson to a small booth in the corner of the restaurant, making the table lit by not only the candle on the table, but by the moonlight which managed to peak in through the blinds over the window. Wilson's smile grew bigger as he remember that wonderful moonlit night prior which was the entire reason why he was at this restaurant now, waiting on House. Perhaps the moon was their spotlight, or even their source of guidance...

Wilson thanked the waiter as he slid down the cushioned seat of the booth, placing his trench coat alongside him as he moved. As the waiter walked away, Wilson took the solitary time to check his appearance. His black slacks remained unwrinkled and clean, matching the cleanliness of his equally black shoes. His suit jacket completed the black outfit, while his white shirt underneath remained pure and unstained. Most significantly, unlike a typical day at the office, Wilson had decided to wear a simple, deep blue tie. Perhaps it had been unconsciously done to match House's eyes...

Again, Wilson found himself chuckling with sheer happiness and disbelief. He'd never done anything like this before, whether dating a woman or not. Not to mention he'd never felt as absolutely blissful about being with _anyone,_ compared to how he felt now in his solitary booth, waiting for House. It was all so new and strange to him to have a partner which fit to him like a glove in such a bizarre manner. He had always had a very twisted friendship with House, therefore Wilson knew he could expect nothing other than a very twisted relationship. But Wilson also knew he was ready for it; he'd waited for four years. 

Wilson slowly broke out of his thoughts as he glanced anxiously at his wristwatch. Ten minutes had passed since he'd been seated and there was still no sign of House.

"Typical," Wilson muttered to himself. Had he really expected things to be any different? 

"'Typical' what?" a growling voice to Wilson's left. Wilson jumped slightly from excitement and being startled, but he recovered quickly to glance up and see House towering over the table, smiling slightly at Wilson's reaction. Wilson began to chuckle yet again as he gestured for House to sit down. As House obeyed, placing his cane at the end of the booth, Wilson took in House's unique wardrobe. 

For what seemed like the first time in his life, House was wearing black slacks with a matching black suit. The formal wear almost made up for his hair, which was as scruffy as ever, and his unshaven face. Nonetheless, Wilson couldn't complain about House's appearance; it successfully impressed him, but not to the point of being overwhelmed. Overall, it signified to Wilson that this event meant something special to House while simultaneously reminding him that he was still Dr. Gregory House.

"Nice of you to stop by," Wilson quipped, giving House a sideways smile.

"Figured you'd be in the neighborhood," House said, continuing to settle into his seat. 

As he finished shifting over, he overdramatically placed his elbows on the table, hands at his chin, as he stared deeply at Wilson. Wilson felt himself blush slightly as a ridiculous smile formed on his face for possibly the fifth time that night.

"So... now what?" House said, his chin still resting on his hands.

"Well," Wilson said, fumbling for something to say, "we talk."

House raised an eyebrow.

"Y'know... about our likes and dislikes," Wilson suggested lamely. He knew he was making it seem as though he'd never been on a date before, but to him, this entire situation felt like something entirely new and unfamiliar. Wilson had to mentally check himself, remind him: _House is just like anyone else you've dated... why are you suddenly so awkward?_

House broke into a laugh, sitting up from his deep recline on the table. "Wilson, you've known my 'likes' and 'dislikes' for the past four years."

Wilson placed his head in his hands embarrassedly, "I know, I'm sorry. It's just – it's just that I haven't done this before." As soon as he said it, he knew he'd made a mistake. House was bound to attack him for it any second now...

"Hey, you're the one with a track record. So now you're claiming they don't exist? Awfully selfish of you," House responded as wittily as Wilson had predicted.

He sighed before he attempted to correct his faux pas. "House, you know what I mean."

"And if I don't?" House dared Wilson to speak his mind.

"Then excuse me for being the first guy on earth to fall in love with his best friend – his best _male _friend at that."

"Hasn't stopped you."

"You're... unique," Wilson said pathetically.

"I love it when you talk like that," House said, only a slight sense of sarcasm in his voice as he gave an exaggerated sigh and slid back into his position with his hands resting on his chin.

Instead of giving House his typical stare, Wilson felt himself breaking into a strong laugh.

"House, this is so surreal!" he said, throwing his arms out so the backs of his hands rested on the table's edge. "Never, in all four years of knowing you, had I expected that one day I'd be sitting across from you on a first date struggling to find _something _to talk about."

"We're not struggling," House said, creating an exaggerated pout, "we're just getting started. Besides," he said, lowering his voice in a finishing tone as the waiter began to approach their table, "there's a first time for everything."

"Hmph, apparently so," Wilson muttered as the waiter arrived at their table, ready to offer drinks.

--

House and Wilson fell into an animated conversation long into the night as they patiently waited for their food to arrive. As always, their conversations traveled at the speed of light, bouncing from one absurd topic to the next. As their food arrived, silence fell across the table for the first time, only as a result of food filling their hungry mouths.

"So," House said in-between bites, "going to keep in touch with Amber?"

Wilson looked up from his fettuccini alfredo with slight confusion. He swallowed, picking up his napkin to dab at the corners of his mouth.

"Is that all you can talk about?" he asked testily.

"Hey, I'm a jealous guy," House teased, his mouth full of salmon.

Wilson let out a small laugh for the umpteenth time that night, twirling his pasta as he smiled. He looked up at House, choosing to ignore the topic of conversation House had attempted to tread on.

"I just can't believe this," Wilson said at last, setting his fork down on the side of his plate as he spoke. House threw him a slightly worried sideways glance as he temporarily stopped chewing.

"You're happy about this, right?" he asked slowly, still not chewing the food in his mouth.

"Yes, of course I'm happy!" Wilson brushed away House's underlying concerns. As he finished his sentence, he saw House resume chewing.

"It's just," Wilson continued, "I've never been so hung up on a person on a first date before. I've never sat and thought to myself, 'Wow, it's finally happened' or, 'I can't believe that there's a mutual bond – that time matched itself up to bring us together.' I've never thought like that before and suddenly, that's all I can focus on! It's always been about making or creating the pair through slowly getting to know the person – not finally bringing out into the open what had been there for years. I've never thought to myself with relief, 'Good, it wasn't just some crazy notion I had: it's real.' I've never had to, and now," he finished his speech with yet another disbelieving laugh, "here I am."

House simply remained silent and scrutinized his partner, slowly taking in his daunting speech. Wilson saw his silence as an opportunity to add on.

"For the record, I refuse to believe that this disbelief hasn't passed through your mind..."

"That doesn't mean I want to talk about it," House grumbled, although he flashed a quick, guilty smile. "At least this way we get to the sex faster," he said, raising his eyebrows dangerously as his eyes widened in silent laughter. Within the next split second, Wilson could've sworn he saw House give him a small wink. He jumped slightly in surprise, shook his head rapidly and stammered in response.

"D – did you just.. wink at me?"

House shrugged, "Never could do it before."

"It's just.. so unlike you," Wilson said, still trying to grasp the bizarre concept.

"Yeah, well, now you get my romantic side," House said, flashing his blue eyes once again.

"Wow, that'll be a first for everyone," Wilson teased.

"Oh shut up about pretending Stacy never existed," House argued.

"We never really hit it off..." Wilson reasoned, attempting to cover up his implicating sentence.

"Gee, I wonder why," House said sardonically.

"Oh no, now you're going to analyze me."

"You get all the fun stuff," House whined.

"House, don't---" Wilson began, holding up a hand behind another fit of laughter. "You're mocking me; stop."

"Oh, but it's so fun," House continued to whine playfully, "I never got the chance before."

"I've never done _this _before," Wilson responded, gesturing to the cold fettuccini in front of him.

"Hmm, what happened to your wives?" House asked, turning his head slightly sideways to give Wilson an x-raying stare. "They fall off the face existence?"

"I meant with..." Wilson turned slightly red as he stared at his food, struggling for words that wouldn't offend House, "with another _man._"

"Pfft," House quickly brushed off Wilson's comment, "like it's any different."

"Should be less complicated," Wilson said, playing on the comical stereotypes.

House smiled quietly, "Yeah – it's just you and me; can't get any more complicated than that."

Wilson smiled, picking up his fork once again to finish off his cold meal.

The duo fell into content silence once again as they finished eating, and the conversation failed to pick up until their plates had been carried away and Wilson sat in anticipation for the bill.

As he gazed out through the blinds of the window, Wilson couldn't help but think about the sunrise destined to come and the new day that would be brought with the new light. This led him to think, with a pang of newfound nervousness, of a question which needed to be asked.

"House..?" he began, turning his gaze to House's face.

"Yeah?"

"Do you... think we're ready to tell the hospital about this?"

House put his hand on his chin and thought for a moment, gazing out at the window as Wilson did previously.

"They'll find out eventually," he said in a matter of fact sort of voice as he shrugged.

"Yes but—" Wilson paused, "are you ready for them to find out?" Wilson could feel the tension his question had caused both at the dinner table and within his heart. He knew House's answer would be different from his own personal choice, yet he had to ask – he simply had to know.

"Yes," House finally answered. He looked up into Wilson's worrisome brown eyes. "Are you?"

Wilson could only close his eyes and sigh as he sank into his seat. "There's our first obstacle," he said quietly. He knew he ought to be ashamed of his choice, but he knew he had to prioritize and that his personal comfort came before anything else. If House truly loved him, he'd be able to accommodate, whether he wanted to or not.

House sighed alongside Wilson, sliding his hand down the side of his face. "How can you be ready to date me, but not be open about it?"

Wilson shifted guiltily and uncomfortably in his seat. "I'm still getting used to it... I guess..." he said, his voice trailing off.

"Well hurry up," House said.

"I might say the same to you," Wilson said as the waiter passed by, handing the bill to Wilson's outstretched hand.

House raised a curious eyebrow.

"You're paying for our next date which should run to about..." he read the bill, his brown eyes growing wide with shock, "$150.00 not including tip." He lowered the bill from eye level so he could give House his annoyed stare.

"What'd you order? The caviar?" he asked exasperatedly.

"Salmon," House replied as he began shoveling the apple pie doused in whipped cream that was sitting so temptingly in front of him. Wilson rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"What?" he then argued at Wilson's reaction. "You expected me to turn into a whole new person? Maybe wearing frills or something?" 

Wilson sighed yet again, "No, of course not. I guess I'm just---"

"Still getting used to it," House interrupted between a bite of apple pie, "yeah, I know."

Wilson smiled despite himself, "And that's why I'm dating you – not someone else."

"Free apple pie?" House said, waving a piece of pie on his fork.

"No: free understanding."

House chuckled with a mouthful of pie.

--

They left the restaurant several hours later and several servings heavier, carrying their coats at hand to face the cool, evening breeze that awaited them outside. They stood together underneath the awning which extended to the sidewalk, supported by two bronze colored poles. It created a canopy, blocking their view of the few stars which could theoretically be seen despite the city lights. Wilson shivered as he slid on his trench coat, pulling it tight around him. House copied him, yet did so without shuddering from the weather. The two then stared at each other, both knowing that this was the moment to make a move, yet both remained frozen; either from the cold or from nerves was open to interpretation.

At last, House stepped forward, within several inches of Wilson's cold face. He grasped Wilson's shoulders, running his hands firmly down Wilson's sides as he continued to shiver slightly. Wilson could only gaze at the glittering sidewalk as House continued to massage his arms and shoulders. He enjoyed the feeling – it gave him security and a sense of unity, but he still maintained a fleeting sensation of self-consciousness which prevented him from looking House compassionately in the eye and planting that passionate kiss on his lips that he desired to give.

In his mental torment, he felt his body give a half step forward as he raised his head slightly. House sensed his movement and attempted to finish the gesture that he knew Wilson intended, but instead fell forward slightly due to Wilson's hesitation. House was forced to compromise his small lunge forward by wrapping his arms around Wilson in a tight yet awkward hug. Wilson's arms were still at his side, and as he stood there being embraced by House, he knew he'd made things entirely worse by showing his hesitation rather than following through. He also knew House would torment him about it in the near future.

As House's arms fell from their embrace, he took a half step back from Wilson and began to scrutinize his friend. Wilson could sense a small twinge of doubt forming in House's mind. Wilson shook his head quickly, raising one reassuring hand to House's face.

"I love you," he heard himself whisper. "Just... not here, okay?"

House blinked heavily at Wilson's secret, attempting to comprehend the beautiful words that had passed through his lips followed by the words of concern and self-consciousness that would probably continue to be stated for at least the next few dates. 

House felt himself nod emphatically, smiling despite the frustration that was bubbling inside him. He knew the best thing to do was to let Wilson come to terms with his paradox of discomfort by himself, but he wanted to help – he wanted to move things along. His understanding of Wilson prevented him from simply grabbing the sides of his face and entering a passionate, swooning kiss.

It was also clear to House that Wilson's self-consciousness would continue to be a barrier for as long as it took for Wilson to accept their relationship as entirely real. As a result, it would be a matter of time before he could take Wilson in his hands and physically respond to Wilson's whispered confession. Frustration ran high as House slowly backed away from Wilson, giving him a small wave good night before limping off into the darkness to find his car. He'd simply have to hurry along the process. After all, hadn't he told Wilson to "hurry up"? 

"Heh," House chuckled as he started his car engine, "Wilson's in for it tomorrow." 


	2. Revenge

Chapter 2

"Morning, Wilson." 

Wilson heard the familiar, cheerful voice coming from behind him as he stood in the lobby to Princeton Plainsboro Hospital and jumped slightly. He finished signing in at the desk, and began to turn around cautiously in order to greet House face to face. 

As he spun around, the awkward memory of their parting after dinner the night before floated to the front of his mind. They had been inches from each other's faces when he had frozen with fear and bizarre embarrassment, forcing House into a quick, recovering hug. Wilson colored slightly at the memory as he realized that blunder would most likely haunt him to his dying day.

"Morning House," he finally spoke, running his hand through his hair as his eyes met with House's. It took Wilson a moment to realize how uncommonly close now stood in front of him. He reflexively took a half step back, his back colliding into the edge of the receptionist desk. He stood, slightly startled and trapped between House's body and the harsh, pointed edge of the desk, grimacing from the annoying pain his back.

"Get a good night's sleep?" House asked, not moving from his spot within Wilson's personal bubble.

"Y- yes, thank you," Wilson stammered. He felt his arms sliding back behind him as he scrambled to place his hands nonchalantly on the countertop of the table. He felt his hands slip slightly from the perspiration that had begun to develop on the palms of his hands.

"Not lonely?" House asked, scrutinizing his best friend in an attempt to convey a very obvious sexual reference.

"My dreams weren't..." Wilson muttered, gazing from House to the floor as he swung his arms to his sides again.

"Oh?" asked House, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Excuse me, Dr. Wilson," a woman's voice from behind suddenly fluttered into the conversation. Wilson craned his neck to look over his shoulder, giving the receptionist a weak form of eye contact.

"There are others in line," she said weakly, in a very poor attempt to get rid of the bickering couple.

"Oh, yes, I'm so sorry!" Wilson said, shuffling sideways to clear the front of the desk. House could only look on in silent amusement as Wilson fumbled to pick up his briefcase, adjusted his coat and then gave House a small nod towards the elevator.

"Right," House said as they began to walk, "my favorite place to be."

Wilson rolled his eyes, still recovering from his obvious lack of eloquence. Once they arrived at the elevators, Wilson jabbed the up button, then stepped back to stand alongside House. They stood in silence as they waited for the elevator, almost thankful for an excuse to move when the elevator on the left let out a ding and opened its metallic doors.

House entered first, Wilson trudging behind, pressing the floor button as he entered. Almost immediately as the doors slammed shut, Wilson spoke.

"House, I'm really sorry about after dinner last night," he began, turning his head slightly downwards and towards House as he spoke, denying House the benefit of eye contact.

"You could make up for it here," House said invitingly, bouncing his cane in his hand as he spoke.

"I was— what?" Wilson stopped mid-speech and performed a double take as he looked surprisingly at House. "No," he then laughed, "we're almost at our floor," he argued.

"The 'stop' button's here for a reason," House gestured with his head towards the familiar red button.

"You're willing to set off an alarm in an elevator _just _to make out with me!"

"What? Like you're not?" House gave Wilson a serious stare, beginning to x-ray his partner again.

Wilson smiled despite himself, almost mischievously, but he then shook his head in hesitance. "And if I am?" he finally contented himself with an answer.

"Then you should have no problem with this," House began to take a step towards Wilson, reaching towards Wilson's face with a fiery sense of desire gleaming in his eyes. Wilson remained rooted to the spot by the sudden heat of the moment and the excitement that was rising in his chest. He saw House's twinkling blue eyes growing closer, glowing with equal excitement and happiness. As Wilson's entire view was filled by House's eyes, he felt himself closing his own eyes, and his lips parting in expectancy. He could feel House's breath on his face, his hands at either side of his face – the moment was drawing nearer...

_Ding._

Suddenly, Wilson felt House's breath pull away from his face as House's hands quickly fell from either side of his face, leaving Wilson in a vulnerable state, eyes closed and completely relaxed. However, Wilson opened his eyes as he heard the metallic doors clang open and House begin to exit the elevator. Wilson put a hand to his forehead in shock, still attempting to register House's cruelty, gasping slightly from the intensity of those fleeting moments. He almost forgot to exit the elevator as it began to close on him, forcing him to hold his hand out between the heavy metallic doors.

He adjusted his clothing as he exited the elevator, giving House's back his typical, annoyed stare. House must've felt Wilson's gaze scrutinizing his back because he turned suddenly, facing Wilson with a small, sideways smirk.

"Why do I have the feeling that was some sort of revenge?" Wilson say, throwing out his briefcase-free hand in an open gesture.

House merely said nothing, but turned around and continued walking down the hallway, opening the glass door to his office and vanishing behind it, leaving Wilson to continue walking down the hallway to his office door at the end.

As he opened the door and settled into his office, a slightly twisted, simultaneously horrifying and satisfying thought crossed Wilson's racing mind: he was going to have to go through a whole day like this.


	3. New Problems

Chapter 3

House entered his office, smiling slightly to himself as he sat down at his desk, setting his cane aside. As he threw his hands behind his head and his feet outstretched on his desktop, he felt a sense of accomplishment. Surely his sudden act in the elevator had triggered something within Wilson, hopefully starting to knock down that ridiculous barrier that Wilson had constructed for himself. 

If it had been anyone other than Wilson, House's frustration would've reaching boiling point already. But Wilson was so unlike anyone else House had ever met. Besides the obvious characteristics that had drawn him to Wilson all those years, the sole fact that he had _waited _for Wilson all those years prompted him to reason that a few more days, perhaps a week at most, shouldn't hurt any more than those four, long years. The biggest difference was that now, with Wilson as his official partner, he could physically push Wilson more quickly towards what he had always expected his physical relationship with Wilson to be like.

He admitted to himself that he had not expected Wilson to be this hesitant at all; he had expected Wilson to carry on as gently and kindly as he had two nights ago, when this entire mutual bond had been carried out into the open. But it was ridiculous to dwell in frustration about things that could've been two nights ago when the possibilities remained open-ended for the time to come. That was the sheer beauty of this new relationship: no more restraints, no more hesitation from fear that one wrong move would utterly destroy their already fragile friendship.

House sighed and gazed up at the ceiling for a moment, before a sound of high heels against the rug could be heard coming towards him. He didn't even have to look down to know that Cuddy had just entered the room.

"New patient," Cuddy's voice said.

"Can't you wait five seconds before attacking me?"

"'Cuddy time' or your time?"

"Ha, ha," House said dryly, finally looking at Cuddy. "But seriously, go away."

"Not until we're done talking," Cuddy said firmly.

"This conversation ended even before it started."

"It's either we start a conversation about a new patient," Cuddy said sternly, "or you tell me about your date with Wilson last night."

"How could you have talked to him already!" House said, jumping about half a foot in his seat.

"I didn't," Cuddy smirked.

"Then you..." House trailed off, remembering his behavior with Wilson in the lobby, elevator and on the current floor.

"Honestly House, I know you and Wilson are close, but when you cause him to lean against the receptionist desk in the lobby, there's obviously been a change of relationship."

"Funny," House said, turning his head sideways to feign struggling for a memory, "I don't remember seeing a low cut blouse anywhere in the lobby."

"That's because I was on the second floor, balcony seating."

"Touché."

"I have my days," Cuddy said, feigning modesty. "But House," she began, her voice lowering slightly in serious concern, "this can't interfere with your job, nor Wilson's. I know I'm supposed to be happy for you, but I'm worried if this is going to last. Have you stopped to think about that?"

"I've only dated him once," House said, throwing up his hands, "we've only been together a day and you're already telling me to start planning for the breakup? Thanks for your vote of confidence."

"House," Cuddy said, attempting to repair the damage, "I'm just saying this out of concern... as a friend. Work relationships often end up making work really awkward when it all falls apart."

"You're telling me," House said, rolling his eyes at the thought of Chase and Cameron who were _still _dating. "Sex in a closet tends to do that to the rest of the work force."

Cuddy's eyes grew wide, "I thought you said you just started dating Wilson!"

"It wasn't me – it was Chase and Cameron," House revealed carelessly. "Oh please, don't even start," he snapped, seeing Cuddy's look of sheer horror. "They've been dating for too long for you to intervene."

"Just as long as I don't walk in on you and Wilson in a closet anytime soon," Cuddy said, beginning to head towards House's office door.

"If you're going to walk in on us, it wouldn't be in a closet – too symbolic."

"Well, congratulations, House," Cuddy said, shrugging as she reached for the door handle. "One more thing: Amber came by to visit today."

House had to restrain his surprise. "Visit? Or pick up her paycheck?"

"The second one."

"So? Should I care?"

Cuddy clicked her tongue and sighed. "Sadly, yes."

House raised his eyebrows with curiosity, although his heart started to beat with concern.

"She saw you and Wilson," Cuddy said, simply, a purely apologetic look on her face.

"Oh, God," House said, slapping his hand to his forehead. "Like I don't have enough problems already trying to get Wilson comfortable with the fact that I'm a man and he wants to do naughty things with me."

"Wilson's uncomfortable?" Cuddy asked, honestly surprised, ignoring House's outrageous statement. "That's interesting..." she trailed off.

"Well, now he's just going to be even more uncomfortable..." he paused and stared at Cuddy. "Did Amber say if she's... coming back?"

"Mm, mentioned it..." Cuddy said, vaguely.

House sat up straight in his seat, gripping the edge of his desk in shock.

"Be careful with this woman, House."

"Why couldn't you tell security to kick her out?" House said, clearly enraged.

"She hasn't done anything illegal," Cuddy argued, "I can't just tell security to kick her out for no reason," she pulled the door handle, swinging the door open and thereby setting a tone of finality to their conversation.

She gave House one final, apologetic look. "Sorry House, and just don't punch her when she comes through your office door."

"I'll make sure to have Wilson tie my hands together."

"Are you sure you should _tell _Wilson?"

"He'll find out anyway," House muttered, "either directly or from the way rumors spread around this place."

"But not from you?"

House sighed. "We'll see. Like I said, Wilson's still getting used to me. Amber entering the picture and putting her foot down isn't going to help things."

"I wish there was something I could do, but you two are big boys now and I'm sure nothing will tear your love apart," she said in an obvious, melodramatic voice.

"Thanks for reminding me; General Hospital's on in an hour."

"Anytime, House," Cuddy said, and with that, she was gone.


	4. New Passion

Chapter 4

House poked his head through Wilson's office doorway.

"Do I have to pay for lunch this time?"

Wilson looked up from his work at his desk, midway through writing a sentence, pen still held aloft. As he looked at the comical appearance of House's head popping through the doorway, he smiled slightly and then continued to read over his paper.

"Come in, House," he said cheerfully, and immediately heard the sound of his door creaking open, allowing House to enter, and then the sound of the door sliding shut. 

As House stood at the front of Wilson's desk, Wilson felt his hands begin to shake with newfound nervousness and underlying excitement. With House's newfound taunting passion and openness, Wilson never seemed to know what was in store for him. He placed his hands in his lap to hide them from House's view.

"Are we going to lunch or not?" House asked impatiently, leaning slightly on his cane.

"In a minute," Wilson said, enjoying the opportunity to drag House along, "I'm not done with this patient's paperwork." He continued writing while House threw his head up at the ceiling, spun in a small circle and began to pace Wilson's office.

"How long does it take to file out paperwork?"

"The fact that you don't know means you were able to find someone in your new fellowship to pay this time."

"Very funny. But seriously, hurry up," House whined, clutching his stomach for an extra effect.

"Take a seat," Wilson said, still not looking up from his work, "gaze out the window, admire my wonderful couch. If you want lunch, you're gonna have to wait."

"Fine," House moped, throwing himself onto Wilson's couch and settling into it, folding his arms across his chest like a child sent to time-out. 

They sat in silence for several minutes while Wilson's pen scratched at the paper, making the only noise in the room. At last, Wilson put down his pen with a clatter and sighed, gazing at House who was busy staring out the window at passing birds and cars. Wilson silently slid out of his chair and walked over to House, sitting down at the edge of his couch by House's knees. The couch let out a sigh as air escaped in order to fit the extra weight of Wilson.

House tore his gaze from the window to look at Wilson.

"Done?" he asked hopefully.

"Hungry?"

"Eh, not as much as I thought," House shrugged from his seat, adjusting himself so he was reclining entirely on his back.

"Well..." Wilson felt his left hand attempting to rest on top of House's right knee. House winced slightly from the pressure, and Wilson's hand fell between his partner's legs. He quickly attempted to pull his hand away, blushing slightly from his clumsy "blunder". House squeezed his legs together tightly, trapping Wilson's hand as he gave a Wilson a look which clearly conveyed the message, "Oh, no you don't."

"You still wanna go eat?" Wilson suggested.

House took a deep breath through his nose and sat up, his ankles now on either side of Wilson's hand rather than his mid-thighs.

"Not yet," House said quietly, not quite looking Wilson in the eye as he spoke. Wilson raised his eyebrows in concern.

"What's wrong, House?" He did not even attempt to guess that something _was _wrong: he knew.

House gave Wilson a small, sad glance and then gazed at his lap awkwardly. Wilson slid himself forward, closer to House's face so that he could raise his left hand to his wonderful, rough, unshaven face. House felt Wilson's deep, brown eyes piercing him, filled with compassionate concern and underlying worry. As he felt Wilson's fingertips run along the side of his face, he took in the sheer simplicity and peace that the moment brought, and sighed deeply. He stole fleeting glances at Wilson's compassionate face, squirming slightly in his seat as he attempted to prepare himself for breaking the news to Wilson. 

"Amber's... coming to visit," House finally grumbled.

"'Visit'?" Wilson asked, stopping momentarily from sliding his hands around that familiar face. "As in, pick up her check and leave or, as in stop by and see how I'm doing three days after the break-up?"

House exhaled heavily, placing his left hand over his eye and rubbing it intensely. "Probably the second one," he muttered.

"How courteous," Wilson said sarcastically. "Has she... found out about us?" he asked the dangerous question with bated breath.

"Her greed serves her well," was all House could answer. Wilson raised a single, confused eyebrow.

"She... stopped by earlier to pick up her check?" he then interpreted House's vague comment. His eyes widened as he was able to connect the dots. "Oh God," he said, collapsing his face into his palms. As his eyes were shrouded in the darkness of his hands, Wilson heard House sliding around on the couch, his weight shifting from across the couch into a formal sitting position next to him.

"Did you seriously expect her _not _to find out one way or another?"

"I don't know what I was expecting," Wilson said, his answer muffled by his hands.

"Obviously not this," House sighed, placing his forearms along his thighs, lowering his head in thought.

"What should we do?" Wilson asked, his voice still muffled by his hands.

"Are you seriously asking me this?" House asked, half laughing.

"Who else am I supposed to ask?" Wilson exclaimed, finally pulling his face away from his hands as he turned to face House.

"Well, technically you could ask Cuddy," House paused, "but that's not the point."

"Wait, wait, wait," Wilson said, holding his palms towards House. "Cuddy know about us?"

"Apparently we had a balcony audience this morning," House said. Wilson groaned slightly, but suddenly felt himself laughing as he was simultaneously struck with a brilliant idea.

"I'm guessing Amber was part of this audience, too?" he asked, preparing House for his brilliant scheme.

"Probably," House said, "why?"

"Let's put on an Act Two," Wilson suggested, entering a House-like metaphor.

With a deep intake of breath, House replied, "I couldn't have said it better myself." He then rose from his seat on the couch, preparing to head out the door and down to the cafeteria. He then paused.

"Actually, I'm surprised I'm not the one who said it." He threw Wilson a sideway smirk.

"You're my inspiration," Wilson shrugged from his seat on the couch.

"Aw, how touching," House said, turning away from the door and walking back to Wilson. He stopped right in front of Wilson's seat, gazing straight down at his partner, maintaining his small smirk. Wilson craned his neck to look up into House's eyes and Wilson suddenly felt a wave of temptation which he had not felt the nights before. 

In a bizarre wave of passion, Wilson had leapt up at House, wrapping his arms tightly around him as he pulled him into a passionate kiss. Wilson felt House gasp slightly as his lips initially met his, but the reflexive tension immediately receded as House's lips relaxed and began to respond to Wilson's passion. 

They stood at the foot of the couch, feeding off of each other's desires and passions which had been contained for so many years. Wilson felt House's unshaven face brush against his lips and cheeks, taking in the beautiful power of the moment in an overwhelming wave of sheer happiness as he continued to press his lips firmly against House's. Suddenly, he felt himself being gradually pushed up against his couch and falling slowly backwards onto the cushions with a soft plunk.

He scrambled to maintain any sense of balance he could as he fell, lightly tugging House's shirt collar as he fell. House allowed himself to be tugged downwards, focusing only on the emotions of sheer accomplishment and glee that were flooding his mind. Somehow, he'd broken through Wilson's initial hesitation and now, here they were. The looming terror of Amber's presence somewhere throughout the hospital temporarily vanished as Wilson continued to kiss House's face and lips, distracting House entirely from reality.

House felt himself being transferred from his current position atop of Wilson, half on the couch and half on the floor, onto the couch entirely, slowly becoming sandwiched between the soft cushions and Wilson's light, familiar body. He immediately pulled Wilson closer, running his hand through Wilson's dirty blonde hair as he continued to kiss every inch of him within his reach: his neck, cheek, earlobes, eyelids, forehead – everywhere felt wonderful and welcoming against his lips.

Wilson's left hand found the back of House's neck, and he began to softly stroke House's dry, wiry grey hair. He could not remember any time kissing any other individual where he had felt as entirely blissful and passionate as in that point in time. He had never _wanted _anyone as badly as House. He had never searched for someone's mouth as greedily as he did now and had never been as wholly satisfied by the contact of another person's lips against his own.

After what felt like an hour, perhaps even a day, Wilson felt himself grow tired as he pulled away from House's rough face and lay his head on House's chest, panting heavily. House slid up slightly, his head supported by the armrest of the couch. He sighed heavily, his chest heaving from equal exhaustion. He began to slide his hand slowly along Wilson's back. It seemed as though Wilson's body could simply meld into his own, becoming one entity as they lay there, breathing nearly in unison as their excited hearts continued to beat rapidly. 

They continued to lay there, perfectly content with one another for another several minutes until, at last, Wilson sat up, resting atop of House's legs. House groaned quietly from Wilson's shifting weight.

"I'm hungry," Wilson announced, beginning to act as though nothing had happened as he began to try standing up. House simply bent his legs upwards, forcing Wilson to comically slide towards him, now settling on his hips. He grabbed at Wilson's tie, pulling him forwards into one last, deep kiss. Wilson stumbled forwards, catching his fall with his hands on either of House's shoulders, taking in House's lips one last time. Suddenly, House finished kissing, opening his eyes slowly to look at Wilson.

"Yeah, let's go," he said, sitting up and pushing Wilson gradually off of him. Wilson groaned out of soreness as he stood up, rolling his shoulders and straightening his tie. He scratched the back of his head, blinking his eyes heavily multiple times. 

House, on the other hand, simply rolled so that his right arm was extended towards the floor so that he could pick up his cane. He rolled back onto the couch, then slid off of his seat, supporting himself with the familiar weight of his cane as he rose. He quickly scratched his head and pulled at his shirt as he stood. Wilson simply waited patiently, his hands at their typical position on his hips. 

"You're paying," he scolded, raising his index finger at House as he grabbed his office door and held it open.

"As long as you don't eat onions," House grinned, exiting the historic landmark of his first kiss with Wilson.


	5. Lunch?

Chapter 5

Wilson followed House out of his own office, down the hallway and into an elevator as its doors began to slide shut. As Wilson pressed the "lobby" button and the elevator began to slowly slide downwards, he stole a glance at House. From his peripheral vision, he saw House slowly bringing his fingertips to his lips, running them slowly back and forth with a reminiscent look on his face. He could've sworn he saw House break into a small smile from behind his fingertips, causing Wilson to feel a warm pang at his heart as he looked away. Obviously, that passionate scene had meant more than fulfilling physical pleasures to House, and it pleased Wilson that so far, their relationship was everything he'd envisioned it to be.

He felt himself break into a smile as he raised his hand to his own lips, copying House's meaningful motions. As his touched his wet lips, he recalled the beautiful feeling of House's unshaven skin against his own, and the emotional, passionate pressure that had emulated from House's lips.

Wilson bit his lower lip as he became lost in thought, causing him to jump a moment later as he felt a hand at his right shoulder, turning him to face the center of the elevator rather than the display of elevator button. House's blue eyes blazed in front of him as his left hand continued to rest on Wilson's shoulder. He then felt House's hand travel upwards, along the side of his face into his hair.

Long, familiar fingers buried themselves in his brown hair and Wilson felt shivers running along his spine as House continued to cheerfully caress his face. There was an intense moment of anticipation as House's eyes locked with Wilson's as Wilson continued to shiver slightly from House's touch. House scanned Wilson's soft complexion, pausing at moments to stare at his slightly quivering lips and then at his deep, brown eyes which were begging for House to kiss him again.

"Hm," House chuckled quietly, his lips forming a very slight smile. "Should we risk it?" he asked in a low, quiet voice. It was not a whisper - Wilson had never heard House whisper - but his tone was even more seductive than any whisper could be. Wilson felt himself foolishly nodding, closing his eyes in anticipation once again.

House's movements suddenly became agile and swift, as almost immediately, he pressed his lips in an encore against Wilson's, urging Wilson to kiss back. Wilson's reflexes were weaker since it took him a moment or two to finally respond. However, as soon as he felt himself quickly moving his lips against House's, the pressure of House's lips vanished, leaving Wilson to recover from his moment of kissing the air.

"Almost to our floor," House said cheerfully, acting as though nothing had happened and gesturing with his eyes towards the buttons across the top of the doorway. The level one button was glowing.

Wilson could only give House a look of complete surprise, raising his eyebrows and holding his hand out as if to say, "What the hell?!"

"You'll thank me in a moment," House said ominously as the elevator hit the ground floor with a slight thud and a ding.

"Oh God," Wilson whispered as the doors clanked open. He felt his hand held out in surprise travel quickly to his face. He pinched his nose as he squinted in anxiety, debating whether he should ever open his eyes again.

"James!" Wilson heard a sweet, feminine voice call to him from the elevator doorway which revealed not only a very familiar figure, but the rest of the lobby which now appeared to be the most dangerous location on earth. At last, Wilson sighed, removing his hand from his face as he opened his eyes. Of course, he truly did not have to open his eyes to know that his ex-girlfriend Amber Volakis stood before him, wearing a gleaming white smile and sporting her typical, shoulder length blonde hair.

"Amber," Wilson muttered, allowing himself to throw a quick, knowing look at House before turning to look at Cut Throat Bitch again. House simply stood alongside Wilson, gazing at the floor with as much intensity as he could allow himself. As Wilson had given him a fleeting glance of fear, House gave a small nod of encouragement.

The elevator doors began to close since the duo had been standing too long in the elevator. Amber quickly held out her hand to stop the heavy doors, giving Wilson and House their cue to nonchalantly step out of their cage.

"H – how are you?" Wilson asked as the doors closed behind him. He raised his hand nervously to the back of his head where he began to rub his neck. House stole the opportunity to roll his eyes at Wilson's politeness.

"I'm doing well, thank you," she said, giving Wilson one of her typical, devious looks.

"I don't mean to be rude," Wilson began, speaking slowly from hesitation, "but what are you doing here?"

"Oh, I just wanted to drop by, see how you're doing," she said, still maintaining a ridiculously fake, polite tone.

"You could've called," House spoke bitterly.

"But then I wouldn't have been able to invite you to lunch, James," Amber said, acknowledging House's comment, but not his existence.

"Lunch?" Wilson asked, entirely confused.

"It is 12:00," she explained, "and I know how busy you are, so I figured now would be the best time."

"Well, House and I--" Wilson began.

"Already ate," House cut in.

"How about coffee?" Amber said, throwing House a furious stare. House furrowed his eyebrows as he began to face Amber in a staring contest. At last, as the heat seemed to glow from their eyes, Wilson stepped in, looking from one to the other.

"Erm," he hesitated, "coffee's okay with me."

House broke his angry stare from Amber to look at Wilson with sheer horror on his face. Wilson twisted his mouth in an uncomfortable manner, sending wordless apologies to House which he immediately understood as he turned away from his partner.

"Great!" Amber said, also breaking away from the staring contest. "My treat."

With that, Amber turned a full 180 degrees and led the parade through the lobby and out the doors of Princeton Plainsboro Hospital. Wilson trailing behind like a dog with his tail nervously between his legs, walking alongside the sulking figure of miserable House, the victim left to reprimand his partner for his lack of backbone.

"Thanks a lot," House whispered out of the side of his mouth. Wilson could only raise his shoulders in a strong cringe for his response: he knew he was setting himself, as well as House, up for a lunch of sheer hell. Unless...

Wilson briefly stopped in his tracks, struck down by an idea as strong as lightning: was Amber homophobic? Just what was her intention of inviting them out to lunch, especially since she _knew _they were a couple? Wilson briefly remembered the malicious, yet wonderful idea he had had while in his office with House: Act Two. Was Amber anticipating it with a twisted form of pleasure, or was she testing his new relationship? Wilson wasted no time in assuming the latter idea: Amber would want to know for herself if Wilson had truly moved on or not. If he hadn't, it meant she had the opportunity to win him back and more importantly, win back Wilson's high connections within the medical world.

In this whirlwind of thoughts, Wilson could therefore only arrive at one conclusion: he would have to publicly prove his romance with House in order to save himself, as well as House, from Amber's potential, evil wrath of jealousy and greed. His heart fluttered at the idea, eager for the kissing session implied in this plan, yet he could not help but feel slightly afraid. Wilson was not entirely ignorant, nor naive; he knew that homophobia continued to rage as a rampant social disease. Furthermore, he knew that with Amber's potential help, he – as well as House - could easily become a new target for the hospital and local area.

Wilson exited Princeton Plainsboro, sighing heavily as he held open one of the many doors for House, who continued to hobble behind him, sulking. Amber had not waited for either of them as she continued to walk down the street towards the familiar coffee shop that stood at the corner. As Wilson closed the door behind House, he ran a hand across his face in his moment of stress, his other hand resting on his hip. While he stood, still lost in thought, he felt a soft, gentle hand at his behind and he jumped slightly.

"House!" he hissed, although he could not deny the physical, fleeting pleasure he'd felt from House's touch. His face contorted into a look of one who has just heard fingernails against the chalkboard.

"If you want her to leave us alone, you're gonna have to get used to that," he smirked, referring to his hand which remained on Wilson's backside. Wilson babbled for a moment and then let out a deep breath of air in a signal of understanding. House had obviously already thought of those key concepts Wilson had been in the middle of mulling over.

"Thanks, Sherlock," Wilson sharply responded.

"Well?" House said in a low voice.

"'Well' what?"

"You ready?"

Wilson took one long, deep look at House, followed by a fleeting glance at the fast-paced figure of Amber striding ahead of them. He thought of all of the risks, the danger he could place House in if they became an obvious item. He imagined the worst possible hate crimes and mounting tension which could arise throughout the hospital if fate decided to make their relationship turn out for the worst. But as Wilson looked into House's eyes, he knew that none of that mattered.

The most beautiful part of their relationship – whether romantic or not – derived from the fact that Wilson always loved House for House. A part of House's personality defined him as a man very minutely impacted by society, which made him very difficult to deal with at times. However, this characteristic now appeared to be very crucial in their given situation. More importantly, Wilson knew in his heart that none of the fears he currently possessed would intimidate House. It was impossible for House to be deterred from continuing to be romantically involved with Wilson because of what other people thought about it. That was the strange, almost ironic beauty of House: no one else's opinion mattered. House had always maintained a bizarre form of self-acceptance which prevented him from fearing rejection by the rest of society.

With a swelling feeling in his heart, Wilson knew that his situation with House would continue to be this way: nothing could destroy what they had, because they _personally _had challenged it a thousand times on end. A person can be their own greatest enemy, and Wilson understood that now. If he could break past his own emotional fears for House, they would be more than capable of taking their world by storm, one step of tolerance at a time.

Wilson took a long, calm breath as he found House's familiar face beside him. House's hand had drifted from his behind to between his shoulder blades, and was discreetly caressing his back.

"Sure," Wilson finally brought himself to speak.

"Got your make-up on?" House asked.

"And my dress, of course," Wilson said, rolling his eyes.

"Good," House said, starting to walk forward, dropping his hand from Wilson's back, "you're gonna need it."

Chapter 6


	6. Confusion

Chapter 6

As Wilson awkwardly stepped into the cafe, House hobbling at his side, Wilson could not help but shake an eerie feeling that he had been in parallel situation only weeks before. Although previously, he had been walking with Amber at his side, and House's presence had been unexpected, Wilson had possessed the same, nervous fluttering in his stomach as a result of unexplained tension. Perhaps then he had feared with Amber that he'd make a false move and suddenly, their relationship would come crashing down. Or, perhaps, he had feared that House would enter the scene and ruin everything. As Wilson reflected, it became blatantly obvious that his fears had most definitely been the latter.

Now, as he stood next to House, Amber leading the way through the confined cafe towards a booth in the corner, Wilson's nausea was sparked by the combination of being in the presence of his current lover and being led by an invisible thread towards his ex-girlfriend, like a warrior entering the maze of the Minotaur. It became apparent as he sat down next to House, sliding towards the wall within the booth, that he was at a clear-cut crossroad between not just relationships, but his personal image. He currently faced a choice which would not only influence his future persona, but his relationship with House. Although, unfortunately, his relationship with House was definitely second priority to his personal image, Wilson knew that these two factors would have to positively influence his actions at this dangerous meal. As a compromise, his behavior would most definitely require a reflection of his personal emotions fused with House's own, obvious attachment. As a result, his overall behavior ought to be enough for Amber to realize she needed to back off, without causing any sort of scene which brought the situation more attention then necessary.

A nudge at Wilson's left rib pulled him out of his thoughts. He cringed slightly from the force of the bony elbow that had been plunged into his sides moments before, and looked at House. House's eyes conveyed his apparent curiosity: how could Wilson be so rational at a time like this?!

Wilson clicked his tongue quietly. He knew House was somehow reprimanding him for his attempt to balance out his emotions, but he also knew that listening to House entirely would ultimately cause some sort of typical dilemma which would quickly spiral out of control. In the end, Wilson concluded he had no choice but to drop his continuous attempts at planning and allow the situation to unfold as spontaneously as necessary. It was useless to plan anything whenever House was around.

Amber watched Wilson with careful, deliberate eyes, scanning his every movement carefully. As soon as Wilson became entirely conscious of her gaze, he shifted uncomfortably, switching his gaze from the edge of the table fleetingly into her piercingly blue eyes. He couldn't recall any time which had carried such an awkward, thick air as now. His intertwined hands seemed to clasp each other with suffocating strength, turning his knuckles white and cold.

"So, James," Amber began, dramatically throwing out her hand and sliding it underneath her chin, continuing to fix Wilson with her dangerous stare. Wilson was given the familiar sensation of being x-rayed.

"How've you been?" she asked. Wilson could not help but feel this was the most pathetic start to a conversation. The answer could not have been any more obvious than if it had been slapped across her malicious face.

"Fine," House cut in as Wilson began to take a deep breath, preparing to speak. He gaped clumsily as he felt House's right arm swing around his shoulders, resting casually across the top of his back as House's fingers fell one by one onto his right shoulder. As his hand made full contact with Wilson's shoulder, he felt House's grip tighten as he attempted to pull Wilson closer towards him, almost as if he were a bird pulling a weakling under his wing. Wilson could not help but feel slightly bewildered as he leaned in towards House. The sight must've been highly amusing, as Amber merely cracked a smile.

"Amber, it's only been a few days," Wilson finally spoke, his confusion cutting clearly through his voice.

"But a lot has happened since then," Amber said, attempting to leave those events open to interpretation. She was clearly waiting for Wilson to lay everything out on the table as a form of utmost cruelty; she could obviously smell Wilson's uneasiness and seemed to feed hungrily off of it.

"I'd say so," Wilson agreed, gazing upwards at House from his spot on his right shoulder.

"So you don't deny you're trying to torture me?"

"Erm, sorry?"

"Of all the people you could've chosen for this petty, flimsy act, you chose House. I see, it all makes sense to me now."

Wilson's head was spinning, House let out a small, harsh laugh.

"'Act'?" Wilson stammered.

"Don't play these games with me James," Amber said smoothly, as if she knew the entire reason why House was sitting there next to Wilson, his arm wrapped around him. "You know I despise House more than anyone else."

"Didn't stop him from choosing me," House said, causing Amber to give a vicious glare at House as she interpreted his words as a form of attack rather than defense.

"And I didn't think you could ever stoop that low," Amber said in a menacingly quiet tone.

"'Stoop low'?" Wilson asked, still entirely bewildered.

"Dammit, James," Amber burst out at last, slamming a fist onto the table in sheer frustration. "If you want me back, just say so. You didn't have to go and twist me around like this. I'll give you a second chance." Her eyes seemed to be brimming with tears as her palm resting on the table turned into a clenched fist.

Wilson gaped slightly for a moment, then looked at his partner. As their eyes met with dawning comprehension, their mutual response was a strong burst of hilarious laughter. They let out deep, rumbling laughs as they had never allowed themselves to do before, clapping their hands together or slapping their thigh as they attempted to recover from Amber's sheer arrogance.

"If anyone is trying to twist anyone around," Wilson said between bursts of laughter, "it's you. You're the one who lied to me; went behind my back. And now you think I'm begging to have you back?"

"I lied so I wouldn't hurt your feelings."

"Because you think that the truth would've made me finish things sooner."

"It would've --"

"It wouldn't. I cared for you, which means I wanted to make you happy. If you had told me were unhappy, I would've tried to do something to help."

"In other words, don't be so selfish next time," House added.

"Who's the one involved in this stint?" Amber challenged House.

"You still think we're putting this on for you?" House said. "Well, get used to the strange idea that not everything revolves around you."

Amber pursed her lips together, her fist still clenched firmly on the table.

"House," Wilson said calmly, attempting to stifle the tension between his partner and Amber, "who's the one who gets thanked for telling patients they're dying?"

"Oh, yeah well, last time I checked, she wasn't exactly a patient."

Wilson sighed, "Let me handle this."

House opened his mouth to retort, but Amber's voice cut across, now clearly confused and upset.

"James, I just want to know... of all people to choose for this: Cuddy, Thirteen, even Dr. Cameron... why House?"

At last, Wilson had come to the crossroads he had predicted earlier. He had a clear cut choice between going along with the ridiculous theory of Amber's or, revealing everything. His first instinct formulated words in his mind which would continue to stir the controversy within Amber's theory.

But as he opened his mouth, he became consciously aware of House's right hand still resting comfortably on his right shoulder. Those fingers had seemed to meld into his skin for the time being, as if they had always belonged there. Yet, not just those fingers – that entire arm and the human being to which that arm belonged to. In that moment, he felt Amber and himself were one and the same; they puzzled over the same question: of all the people in the world, why was it that House was the one whose arm belonged around his shoulder?

There were many logical reasons why, but as Wilson's emotions mounted, he knew that there was no rational or logical reason – there never truly was when it came to love. However, could it even be love? It had been a chaotic, emotional whirlwind the past few days, and obviously, Wilson had barely been able to gather up and sort out his own feelings before Amber's emotions were thrown onto him. To continue to complicate things by developing Amber's intricate theory would most certainly throw Wilson into overload.

Not to mention the definite unfairness which would arise from such an act: House was a human being, with equally confusing emotions, whether he acted that way or not. Attempting to fuel Amber's wild theory would imply that he was pushing House away, while simultaneously demonstrating his own priorities: his reputation over his relationship. Wilson closed his eyes tightly for a moment with the idea as he realized it was the most uncharacteristic thing for him to do to shove House away. It was out of the question to deny feelings which had been stirring within him for so many years and which had only freely surfaced a few days prior.

Amber had an amazing talent of distorting reality, and Wilson was finally able to remove his rose colored glasses as he took a deep breath and began to speak quietly and calmly.

"I chose House because..." he paused slightly, trying to see if he could choose his word before they came fumbling out of his mouth. In his brief pause, House's grip on his shoulder tightened slightly.

"He's... House."

Amber wasn't sure how to interpret this statement, as she continued to stare blankly at Wilson.

"He's the person I've been looking for my whole life. He's just that other essential half – and has been for God knows how long."

"You're... dating House?" Amber asked in a low, seriously disbelieving tone.

"Yes."

Silence.

"Is it a crime to have feelings for another man?"

Amber still remained silent, her lips pursed together again.

"You don't approve."

Amber took a deep breath, as if to say something, but continued to be silent.

"What was I?" she finally asked. "A chance to help someone in need?"

"It's not a bad thing," House quipped.

"I – I don't know what to say..." Amber said, clearly at a loss of what to do as well as what to say.

"I'm sorry," Wilson admitted, holding out his hand as he gave a half-shrug.

"No, you're not," Amber replied, quietly and bitterly.

"I am. You should know that. If there's anything you should know, it's that I care."

"It's the definition of a Wilson," House added.

"I admire your integrity, but I don't think our relationship would've lasted much longer anyway... there's nothing you could've done. Someone else was nagging me in the back of my mind..."

Amber's eyes grew wide as her energy was suddenly restored.

"You knew," she directed her attack at House. "You were trying to get me to leave him! And you're calling _me _selfish?! You wanted him for yourself."

House turned his head slightly and muttered, "Guilty as charged."

Wilson eyed his guilty friend with newfound understanding. If he hadn't been so furious at Amber, Wilson was sure that some of his fury would've relocated to House for his hypocritical attacks, but at the moment, it was clear that Amber's offence was much higher.

"At least I wanted him for him, not the collection of other doctors' business cards," House came up with as his stinging reply.

"But you wanted all of this to happen," Amber threw back through gritted teeth.

"Oh shut up – you would've done the same thing. Hell, you're probably going to try to do the same thing. Sometimes I think I know you better than he does. And to think, I actually felt sorry for you both because you had made such a pathetic, deceitful relationship."

Wilson blinked heavily, "You felt... pity for us?"

"What do ya know, I can be self-sacrificing and sympathetic."

"Wow."

House re-directed his attention to Amber.

"I wanted Wilson for Wilson," he repeated, "and to go with our special little continuing theme, he's what I need."

Amber reclined in her chair, thumping her head beautifully on the seatback of the booth chair. House gave Wilson a look, muttering, "Make sure I never say anything that cheesy again."

Wilson burst into a comfortable, relieved smile for the first time as he leaned in to give House a small kiss on his neck. As he repositioned himself in his seat afterwards, allowing House's arm to fall from his shoulders, he found Amber's face and saw a look of sheer shock.

"Get a closet," she finally said viciously. Wilson felt his heart twinge slightly from the attack. He sat, stunned and stung, appalled at Amber's nerve.

House exhaled between gritted teeth, resulting in a small hiss. "We used that metaphor already."

"Good," Amber said, sheer anger emanating from her voice, "then you know what I mean."

"Right," House said sarcastically, "because you have utter control over our relationship. You don't even have control over yourself."

"Amber, I can give you other doctor's names for a job application. I can help --"

"It's not about that anymore, Dr. Wilson," Amber said, attempting to throw significance into her new method of addressing Wilson, "it's about setting things right."

"Which is what I'm trying to do."

"Then don't. Ever. Kiss," she stumbled over the last word, "House again."

"You seem to be missing a crucial concept here," House said, "since when does your opinion influence everything?"

"Amber, this is just madness," Wilson said, overlapping House's question. He sensed that Amber had somehow lost all sense of rationale. She was almost raving with anger – was she suffering from grief? Either he had been dating a woman who was absolutely insane, or something was now severely wrong with Amber.

"Are you... okay?" He couldn't help but ask. His ability to register other people's emotions broke through, pushing him to discover what was wrong with Amber.

"I'm fine," Amber said sharply, but Wilson sensed some form of denial in her tone.

"No, you're not.. you're clearly very upset. Here," Wilson pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and fumbled through it, digging for some unknown object. At last, he pulled out a small, white business card with the words, "Dr. Callahan PsyD. PhD." These letters flashed before House's eyes as the card traveled across the table onto Amber's place settings. House realized he was recommending her to a psychiatrist; _Wilson's _psychiatrist.

"I hope it'll help," Wilson said honestly. Amber took the card, inserting it into her pocket out of politeness, but continued to gaze angrily at Wilson, then House, then back to Wilson.

She then stood abruptly, gathering her purse as she prepared to depart from the cafe.

"Don't think you're getting away from me," Amber warned, madness seeming to shine obviously from within.

Wilson was no longer feeling sorry for Amber, but rather slightly fearful of what had happened to her. Had she really loved him that much? It shook him slightly to see what he had unintentionally done to her, but as he began to bring the guilt upon himself, he reminded himself that he wasn't responsible for their end of relationship; she had brought it on herself. Therefore, her problems were deeply rooted from even before they started dating. It was most likely an issue that went too deep to discuss at a cafe in front of his new boyfriend.

He allowed himself a moment's speculation – he knew House had many emotional issues, just as Amber did, but would these issues reach a boiling point like they had just done with Amber? Surely, House's problems were mostly resolved, because as far as Wilson knew, his emotional torment came from the consistent combination of leg pain, his personal ego and his desires for Wilson. The majority of these issues were unfixable, besides the latter, which was in the process of being fulfilled. Therefore, it was this emotional difference which separated House from Amber. House was amazingly stable in comparison to Amber. He was certainly very needy, but stable.

"I'm not trying to push you away," Wilson said kindly as Amber began to walk towards the door, "I'm trying to wish you the best in your future. Good-bye, Amber."

Amber said nothing, her hand in her pocket, most likely clutching the business card Wilson had given her. She then pulled the door open and exited the cafe.

Wilson let out a huge sigh of relief as the door swung shut, sliding back into his chair as House let out a long whistle and chuckled.

"Worst case of paranoia I have ever seen," Wilson sighed, moving a hand to his forehead.

"Makes you glad you _are _sleeping with me," House cracked, smirking despite the dangerous situation which they had just escaped.

"If she doesn't get help, I think we're going to be seeing her at Plainsboro very often."

"Even if she does..." House said, his voice hitting a very low octave as he made a sudden realization.

"What do you mean?"

"Therapy sessions are held at Princeton as well."

"Oh, right, 'Voldemort,'" Wilson recalled.

They fell silent, soaking in the underlying sense of comfort that had come with Wilson telling the truth. On the surface, it was clear that his statement had erupted a volcano, but between House and Wilson, things had never been more tranquil, unified and understanding. At last, Wilson and House were on the same page.

Wilson brought his left arm up to House's right side, wrapping his arm around his neck as he gave him a light, understanding kiss.

As they broke apart, House let out a small groan and clutched his stomach melodramatically.

"Can we go get lunch now?


	7. Sparks Fly

Chapter 7

"Good morning, starshine," House said cheerfully as he entered the conference room the next day, greeting his fellows. The new trio sat impatiently at the long, conference table, files scattered across the desks.

"New patient," Thirteen said promptly, barely giving House the opportunity to walk over to the kitchenette and prepare coffee.

"Not interested."

"I don't care," Thirteen's answers were becoming progressively wittier.

"You should – I have a patient already."

"Yes, the one whose file I'm holding."

"No," House said, pulling out his red mug from the cabinets, "Amber."

Thirteen's eyes widened and Kutner rearranged his seating position so that his entire back rested against the chairback. He folded his hands on the desk as he slid upwards, showing a sudden interest in House's words.

"What's wrong with Amber?" Taub asked, his tone clearly attempting to be entirely professional.

"She's lonely," a female voice said from the doorway. House spun on his heels, tearing his attention away from the dripping coffee to see the hauntingly familiar figure of Amber terrorizing the conference room doorway. As she dramatically entered the room, the glass doors closing behind her, House could not help but remember the last time that woman had entered this same room. That time, she had had tears in her eyes as she begged for a job. Now, he sensed danger in her presence – this woman had drastically changed over time and not for the better.

"'Lonely'?" Thirteen said, entirely in disbelief.

"If you want a job, get the hell out of my office," House snapped.

"Didn't you say she's our patient?" Kutner asked in his typical, curious manner.

"I'm not here for a job," Amber said, directing her response at House while blatantly ignoring the presence of his fellows. She moved deliberately towards House with a twisted grace of an animal attempting to track down its prey. House forced himself to return her eagle-like stare, flashing his blue eyes dangerously.

"What do you want?"

A slight shifting and scratching could be heard from the table where the fellows sat, as they moved uncomfortably in their seats. They may be have been ignorant, but the tension in the room had mounted tenfold, making it nearly tangible.

"I want to talk about you and Wilson," Amber began. House felt his body turn cold, as if all of the blood had suddenly left his body. His feet felt as heavy as stone, forcing him to remain immobile. He could feel his fellows' gazes piercing his body, as their eyes widened in confusion.

"What's she talking about, House?" Kutner asked.

Amber flashed a look at Kutner's horrorstruck face, then scanned Thirteen's face – it was clear that her mind was whirring as she attempted to process the information at a mile a minute. Taub remained stony faced and appeared to be uninterested, although his knuckles were white as they gripped the crevice of his elbows as his arms remained folded.

"Oh, you haven't told them?" she said, feigning surprise as she placed a hand over her gaping mouth. She returned her stare to House, whose knuckles were past chalk-white as his hand gripped his cane. Upon seeing the anger building within House, she let out a small, clearly evil chuckle, flashing her white teeth.

"Told us what? House?" Thirteen's voice was almost frantic. House refused to look up, and although he tried to open his mouth, he felt as though his mouth and throat were comprised of sandpaper.

"I suppose you found it irrelevant to tell them they're working for a gay man."

WHAM.

House had raised his cane and slapped it viciously on the floor in his fury, splitting it into pieces which scattered along the carpeted floor with hollow thuds. He dropped the useless handle from his hand, attempting to maintain his balance without his typical source of support. He fell slightly sideways in order to lean against the countertop of the kitchenette. His eyes were blazing with sheer anger, giving him a slightly crazed look.

Thirteen rose out of her seat, slamming her hand on the table as she prepared to verbally attack Amber.

"You have no right to be here – get out," Thirteen said, her voice trembling slightly.

"Aw, did I upset you?" Amber said in her cruelly sweet tone.

Thirteen swallowed hard, biting back words which otherwise would've hurled at Amber at an astounding rate.

"You wouldn't be this offended if you were straight," Amber's bullet wound struck home. Thirteen's pale face wrinkled as she contorted her face into expressions of utter disbelief, hurt and complete fury. She trembled as her hands slowly clenched into fists on the table. A slight tug at her left side told her that Kutner was warning her to let it go, but she refused to let Amber go without a struggle. She tugged at her labcoat, nonverbally warning Kutner, Leave me alone. 

"I'm calling security," Kutner stuttered to no one in particular as he pulled out his cell phone.

"You can drag me into that spotlight all you want, Amber," House finally spoke through gritted teeth, "but you have no right to reveal information that we want to keep to ourselves." House was panting slightly from his emotions, and he felt himself hobbling towards Amber, his fists clenched so tightly his finger nails were digging into his palms.

"How dare you think that you have any power to ruin people's lives. How dare you come strolling in here and vomiting up everyone's secrets in order to see fireworks. How dare you insult me, and how dare you," his voice rose in intensity and volume as he took each step closer to Amber, "think that this would ruin what Wilson and I have. Get the hell out of my office!"

Amber let out another malicious chuckle, conveying the impression that she felt she was entirely in control of the situation. "I'm not here to ruin what you and Wilson have. No..." she said quietly, "that would be mean. I'm here to make you as alone and betrayed as I am now."

"YOU JUST DON'T CHANGE, DO YOU? THAT'S ALWAYS WHAT IT'S ABOUT, ISN'T IT?" House roared. He had reached his boiling point, and the fellows knew that the situation had finally become very dangerous: House could take a swing at Amber at any moment, which could only cause more of a disaster...

Kutner leapt out of his seat, running around the desk to House in order to restrain him from Amber's reach.

"As a matter of fact, I don't" Amber said as House continued to struggle and roar in fury before her. "Usually, my environment adapts to me."

"Amber. Leave. Now," Kutner demanded between pants as he continued to fight against House, holding his arms behind him.

"What are you restraining me for?!" House yelled to Kutner, "push her out of this goddamned room!"

Kutner sighed, letting go of House as he then approached Amber, gently pushing her shoulders in an attempt to guide her out of the conference room. At Kutner's slightly forceful touch, Amber showed no resistance as she merely smiled and began to walk backwards out of the room, enjoying the fit of rage which she had caused House to be launched into. Kutner pushed her into the glass door, which swung outwards at the combined weight of Amber and Kutner. Once Kutner had succeeded in getting her outside the room, he retreated from Amber as though avoiding a poisonous substance. Amber stood at the doorway of the conference room for a moment as the doors swung shut. She then turned abruptly and vanished down the hall.

House let out a roar of frustration as he stumbled towards the conference table and drew a chair. He collapsed into the metal seat, placing a hand at his nose bridge and massaging it furiously, sighing repeatedly as he attempted to calm himself. It wasn't the fact that Amber had "outed" him which upset him the most – it was the fact that Amber had so cruelly attempted to ruin everything which he had ever wanted. It was the sole fact that Amber knew where to hit him the worst, and to shake the emotional core of his being which he often attempted to deny he possessed. Her cruelty had reached a point beyond any human could believe, and House shook despite himself as he thought about Wilson... if Wilson had been the victim of this instead of him, House was sure that Wilson would've been moved to tears.

His beloved partner was much more sensitive about this newfound area of his life than he was, and in comparison to the emotions which rocked his core, he knew that Wilson's would've been worse by tenfold. It wasn't that Wilson was more insecure about his sexuality, it was that Wilson was much more sensitive, and cruel, hateful actions directed at someone's heart such as Amber's attack would've been completely overwhelming.

House let out a dreary sigh as he realized he longed for Wilson's arms. He needed to know that Wilson would be willing to comfort him now more than ever before, even if it meant dragging his own sexuality out into the open. He needed to know that Wilson was willing to choose House over his personal comfort, because that was the only true thing which could keep the demonic Amber at bay.

Perhaps what stung the worst, out of everything that had just happened, was the fact that House had made a crucial discovery: Amber's attack also hurt his ego as well. Despite his self-assurance that he was comfortable and accepting of his sexuality, Amber had forced him now to realize quite the opposite. It wasn't that he was insecure, but that he had come to believe he could stow the fact in the back of his mind, undisturbed by the rest of society and even by himself. He had wished he could see his relationship with Wilson as simply, a relationship as opposed to a "gay" one.

But the truth remained: his sexuality was not only a significant part of who he was, but that it stung to have his privacy violated. He had assumed that he was immune to this struggle that _Wilson_ had openly been going through. Yet now, House knew had had clearly been proven wrong; Wilson would understand, because suddenly Wilson's struggles and his own had become the same. That nerve which Amber had touched on wasn't as insensitive as House had brought himself to believe...

He raised his head from his hands to look at Kutner, Thirteen and Taub, who had all returned to their normal seats in a line along the opposite side of the conference table. Taub remained completely stony faced as before. Kutner's eyes were wide in shock as he continued to process the events which had just unfolded, and Thirteen's eyes were brimming slightly with tears.

Although House knew Thirteen, above all others, would want to talk about what had just happened, he forced himself to remain silent, thinking only of Wilson's familiar, comforting face. He imagined Wilson's trembling fingers caressing his face in sympathetic understanding, creating a bond which would unify them through more than just mutual attraction. The world could come crashing down around him and everything would still be fine as long as Wilson continued to be that crucial source of comfort in his life.


	8. Moving In

Chapter 8

Wilson heard his door open with its typical creak, followed by a slight thud as the wood met the wall. He continued to scribble away at his file, ignoring the figure standing, shaken, in the doorway. Yet, as he heard the familiar pattern of a foot thudding against the carpet supported by a cane, he felt his stomach flutter as he raised his head to meet House's eyes.

House had obviously not been waiting for a sign of approval to enter the office, as always was the case, as he immediately strode into the room upon opening the door. But besides the fact that House had entered the room in his typical manner, Wilson could sense that something was troubling House, which frightened him slightly. It took something either entirely puzzling and unsolvable or emotionally overwhelming for House to show any sign of being troubled. Wilson had always known House was an introverted person, rarely showing any emotion besides determination. On top of that instinct of dissecting human behavior, Wilson could feel his heart tremble slightly as he glanced at the entirely shaken look on House's face: his eyes seemed glazed over, turning slightly grey as opposed to their usual fiery blue, and his complexion seemed bizarrely numb. Unlike the numerous incidences prior during which House had vented his frustration over seemingly impossible causes, the House which currently stood before Wilson seemed determined to remain silent, self-contemplative and uneasy. Above all, it was clear that this time, what was troubling House was something within himself.

Wilson sat, dumbfounded in his seat, lowering his pen slowly to the desk as he watched House walk over to the windows and gaze out into the cloudy sky. When it became clear that House was not going to open up the opportunity for conversation, Wilson furrowed his eyebrows as he asked softly, "What's wrong, House?"

House looked down at the floor, shifting uncomfortably and continued to say nothing. Wilson felt himself rising slowly out of his seat and striding with concern in every step towards House. He stood behind House, slightly to his right, allowing his left hand to slide gently across House's right shoulder, attempting to guide him away from the window. House made no obvious response to Wilson's touch besides a slight shudder, which gave Wilson uneasy chills along his forearms.

Wilson then stepped forward, alongside House (noticing as he moved that House had been standing there without his cane), tracing his left hand along his shoulder, up his neck, finally stopping underneath House's chin. He allowed his hand to pause there momentarily, taking in the comforting feeling of House's skin against his fingertips, then pressing his fingers upwards into House's chin, forcing him to raise his head and look Wilson in the eye.

House blinked uncharacteristically quickly, as if he felt awkward in his present situation. Wilson could only continue to stare back at House in order to calm him, give him comfort and allow House to finally speak.

At last, House's eyes fell upon Wilson's and their bond was reestablished, creating that familiar, comforting feeling which House's earlier uneasiness and troubles had upset. But as House swallowed heavily, closing his eyes tightly as he took in a large breath of air, Wilson prepared himself for the worst...

"Amber..." House began, his voice barely reaching a whisper. His throat was dry, causing him to swallow once again before continuing, "stopped by while I was with my fellows."

Wilson felt himself nodding stupidly only to show House that his ears were still functioning and that the words slowly spilling out of his mouth were in an intelligible language.

"She," House continued, pausing between words as he struggled to tell Wilson this crucial information, "told them about you and me."

It was Wilson's turn to blink rapidly, struggling to understand what House had just stated. Despite himself, and everything he had come to believe about himself and his self-comfort over the past few days seemed to be crashing down around him. He felt a sense of humiliation, even embarrassment, rising shamefully within him. He wished more than anything that House was lying to him – that Amber hadn't been that cruel... but as he continued to balance his overwhelming emotions, still processing House's words and behavior, he began to understand.

Frustration arose in Wilson – he had honestly tried so hard to suppress his worst fears from the day he had touched House's face with open love and compassion. He had pushed away his discomforts of being open about his relationship with House, and most importantly, he had suppressed the fact that he knew one day he and House would have to face society with a smile on their faces as they thrust the truth onto themselves and thereby, the rest of the world. But until now, he had never dreamed that House would be as shaken about this truth as he clearly was now, as he stood before Wilson. It even seemed surreal that House's emotions could stretch that deep into his heart and allow himself to be moved to frustration and dramatic sadness as a result of Amber's cruel behavior. But from this, Wilson knew his affections could only grow for House rather than shrink away, as it gave House more depth to his wonderful, complex character. It not only allowed House to grow as a person, but for Wilson to reach within himself, as well as towards House, for a foundation to stand on during this period of discovery.

If there was anything that Wilson felt he should learn from this shattering moment, it was simply that the time had come at last. He could attempt to deny the situation, his personal discomfort, along with the rest, but the fact remained that a new opportunity arose: the opportunity to take a step into reality. It was a harsh, disquieting awakening, but Wilson always knew that he would reach this turning point at one time or another. Now, what remained to be seen was whether or not House would be willing to push onwards. Clearly, House had gained a new form of understanding about the ways of the world, and Wilson could tell that it frightened him. It was something new to both of them, and Wilson knew that the only thing remaining for them was acceptance and most of all: each other.

Wilson opened his mouth to articulate his deep, motivational speech for House, but he instead felt his lips moving soundlessly, attempting to find something less cheesy to say. He sighed heavily, looking down at the floor in an awkward silence, fumbling for his words. After another minute, he finally formulated a simple sentence:

"I'm willing to continue if you are."

Although simultaneously vague and brilliant, House obviously understood every syllable. He gave a small smile alongside a silent laugh, causing his body to shake slightly. Wilson felt himself breaking into an assuring smile, moving his left hand up to House's cheek as he leaned in slightly to give House a comforting kiss. He felt House continue to shake as their lips met, and as he pulled away, House looked as though a bit of the life which usually flowed within him had been restored.

"How could you ever have found anything worth dating in that witch?" House finally spoke exasperatedly, beginning to enter an angry, venting rant. "Do you want to know what she told them?" he asked, backing away from Wilson as he nonchalantly plopped himself down on Wilson's couch.

"Sure," Wilson said nervously, shrugging slightly as he walked over to sit down next to House.

"She said, 'I suppose you found it irrelevant to tell them they're working for a gay man'. Not 'man dating a man' or any crap. Just, 'gay'."

"It stings, I'm guessing," Wilson said, attempting to fuel House's emotional drive.

"It shouldn't," House muttered, gazing intently at the floor.

"It shouldn't have to be an issue," Wilson said, reasoning about the big picture. "But if it wasn't an issue, neither of us would be here in this melodramatic torment."

"Dammit, I missed General Hospital," House attempted to give the situation a sense of normality. Wilson couldn't help but smirk despite himself.

"Well, the damage has been done," Wilson said wisely, "so now, what's left is to..." he scrambled for a word, "live it."

"You mean live _through _it," House corrected him.

"No, I mean live it. We've been sort of hiding the past few days."

"You have," House corrected him.

"Yes," Wilson admitted slowly, "but up until now, you hadn't realized that you weren't living it either. You wanted to hide, too."

House closed his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. "No, I just didn't want some selfish, insane woman charging in on a meeting and randomly announcing to the world that I'm dating you."

Wilson felt a stinging sensation slightly flickering within his heart. "You're not ashamed of me... are you?"

"Of course not," House blew off Wilson's self-conscious question. "But I don't plan on going to any gay pride meetings any time soon."

"Well, I guess we don't have to take it that far," Wilson reasoned, stifling a laugh. "But the point remains: I think it's time we start... living."

"'Living'?" House repeated lamely.

"Y'know," Wilson spoke awkwardly and nervously, "together."

House smiled, turning his head in an uncomfortable sort of shrug, attempting to brush away Wilson's suggestions.

"Look, whether you like it or not, we've been put in the limelight here," Wilson reasoned, "we've been – for lack of a better word – 'outed'. So why not actually live like a couple? What do we have to lose?"

"You're acting like this is some sort of careless fling," House said, "like you're moving back in with me between wives."

"House!" Wilson said exasperatedly. "I _want _to move in with you. I've reached that point you wanted me to be at days ago. I don't care what Amber's done – it's probably for the better now." Wilson had risen from his seat next to House and was excitedly pacing the floor of his office. He reached the opposite wall and turned around to face House.

"You hated the fact I was embarrassed. You taunted me about it, and once again, now that the opportunity is waving you in the face, you're pushing it away."

House looked silently at Wilson, still apparently at a crossroad of choices. Wilson knew he was going to have to beg. He exhaled briefly.

"Please. Don't do this. You always push people away when they get too close. Don't do it to me... don't do it to yourself. Amber's turned you into this self-conscious form of House. The one time I've learned not to care, you suddenly see a perfectly good reason to care. I don't understand it, House, and I want to."

"The only reason," House finally argued back, "that I lost it with that bitch was because I knew that she wasn't out for me: she was out to get you. Instead she got two birds with one stone. Three, if you count my cane. The reason I didn't deny anything, the reason I'm not standing here telling you it's all over is _because I care._" He gave a clear, strong emphasis on the last three words. Wilson turned his head slightly to one side, processing House's words.

"I should know by now that with you, nothing really is as it seems: rage suddenly means caring."

"As long as you understand that, the secrets to the world have been revealed."

"I feel enlightened."

"Good," he said, a tone of finality in his voice, "maybe now you'll realize that I've been waiting for you to move in for the past four days."

"Even when society is closing in around you?" Wilson quipped.

"Pfft," House smiled, "what's that?"


	9. Supporters

Chapter 9

Wilson's wooden door creaked as House closed it behind him, wearing a smile of pure relief and happiness. Finally, Wilson was moving in with him, and despite the horrible situation Amber had created hours prior, House was at ease with the entire situation. He had successfully eased Wilson into this new life, and had personally benefited from the process as well. It was true that he had not realized how shaken being "outed" would make him feel, but in the present moment, he felt as though he and Wilson could rule the world.

House began to hobble down the hall, stumbling occasionally since he had broken his cane. As he reached the halfway point down the hall, he saw the elevator doors slide open, revealing the familiar figure of Cuddy. Her hawk-eyes immediately found House's dazed ones as she strode out of the elevator, down the hall, stopping before House. She gave him one long, deep look, biting her lip as she looked at him. House scrutinized her objectively; he knew exactly why she was here.

"Just letting you know, this conversation doesn't start until I make a joke about your low cut top."

"Although that was a horrible one, I'm guessing it still counts," Cuddy gave as her snide remark.

"Ha. Ha. What do you want?" House prompted.

"We need to talk," Cuddy said, glancing quickly around and speaking in a softer tone. House raised a single eyebrow.

"I thought you'd want to talk about Amber."

"I do," Cuddy said, apparently startled that House already knew her topic of conversation. "Don't you want to talk about it somewhere private?" House could tell she was entirely baffled by his openness.

"No point," House shrugged, "she's let it out in the open – no point in denying it."

Cuddy gave House a double take, blinking quickly and nodding her head quickly as she attempted to comprehend what House was saying.

"Wilson's stifled your denial," she guessed.

"Actually, I smothered his," House replied triumphantly.

"Uh-huh," Cuddy said slowly, clearly displaying her complete disbelief. "But seriously House, aren't you furious about all of this?"

"I passed the point of fury around the same time I snapped my cane in two."

"Then why weren't you immediately in my office demanding a court order for her? I at least expected you to upturn a few chairs!"

"Because," House responded, gritting his teeth in slight annoyance, "I'm okay with it."

"You're... 'okay' with your sexuality being dragged out into the open like this?"

"You ever had that feeling of deja vu?" House said, giving Cuddy the impression he was trying to change the subject.

"Don't try and change the subject: you need to talk about this."

House took a deep breath, turning his head slightly sideways as he tried to contain his laughter, "I already did."

Cuddy gaped at House. "With who?" Curiosity emulated from her voice.

"Wilson," House replied, shrugging the answer off as if it were a dead giveaway.

Cuddy frowned in concern. "How did he take the news?"

"Surprisingly well," House responded vaguely, reminiscing about Wilson's absolutely phenomenal breakthrough as he spoke. Those fantastic words seemed to echo within House's mind: "_I want to move in with you. I don't care what Amber's done." _Those words were as comforting as the familiar, comforting figure who he stood before moments prior, and he could not help but smile despite himself.

Cuddy scrutinized House, observing his smile with every intent of discovering how on earth this man who scorned society, hated others interfering with his life and strived to maintain independence could stand before her with this carefree attitude. It was unheard of; Cuddy almost wanted to rub her eyes and pinch herself in order to prove that she was truly talking to House. Yet, before she could convince herself to show even more signs of disbelief, she allowed herself to consider another radical concept: House had changed.

"You're.. still dating, I'm guessing?" Cuddy asked.

"Of course," House said, continuing to smile as he remembered Wilson's hands resting calmly against his face.

Cuddy felt herself breaking into a relieved smile, letting out a sigh as she shook her head at House.

"Honestly House, I don't think I'll ever be able to entirely understand you. I come here to offer my support in fighting Amber and any other homophobes who cross your path. But now, it looks as though none of this matters to you in the slightest."

"Oh, it matters," House admitted, "it's just not going to change anything between me and Wilson."

"And Wilson knows this, right? I don't want you to push him away; I think that's what I'm afraid of the most. I don't want either of you to suddenly think that you're in the middle of something that never should've happened and leave the other in the dust. I've seen Wilson go through that one too many times."

"We've all seen Wilson go through that. You're not the only one who talks to Wilson. And besides, we've already talked about this," House repeated, stating this fact with more firmness than before.

"But you never answered my question: is Wilson okay with all of this?"

"If he wasn't, I don't think he would have been begging to move in with me," he grinned and looked away as he revealed the late-breaking news.

Cuddy broke into an enormous smile, clapping her hands over her gaping mouth in excitement. Her gasp entirely audible, displaying her sheer thrill.

"House, that's wonderful!" she exclaimed, breathing slightly more heavily from her rapture.

House opened his mouth to respond, but faltered as he saw his conference room door swing open, welcoming the figure of Thirteen into their conversation.

As Thirteen settled herself between the excited figure of Cuddy and House, she looked from one doctor to the next, her hands on her hips as she surveyed the situation.

"What's going on?" she asked, mostly directing the question at House.

House felt himself opening his mouth to give an answer, but Cuddy cut across him.

"Wilson and House are going to live together!"

House clapped a hand to his forehead, slowly allowing it to slide down his face in slightly embarrassed frustration.

Thirteen's blue eyes widened as she looked again from House to Cuddy to House again, then fixating her stare on House's light blue eyes.

"Really?" she asked breathlessly. House rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue as he did so.

"Yes, _really," _he finally admitted, causing Thirteen to break into the biggest smile he had ever seen since he had hired the mysterious woman. She joined in with Cuddy's excited claps as she bounced up and down slightly, giving House a fiercely happy look.

"I'm so happy for you!" she nearly yelled, her voice dimly echoing throughout the hall. "Amber shouldn't have said those things. She's absolutely awful – really knows how to rub me the wrong way. I wanted to punch her earlier, but I was just so angry I couldn't do anything."

House had never heard Thirteen say that many words in one minute, not to mention at that insanely quick rate. He had to squint slightly in order to comprehend her small speech, processing her excitement as he kept in mind the extra meaning this news possessed for her. If her boss, recently announced gay, could openly share the fact he was moving in with his partner, it implied a newfound sense of security which she could have about herself and her personal feelings. More than anything, House's openness gave her a form of comfort which she had been uneasy to assure for herself prior to any of the day's symbolic events.

Her enthusiasm was a breath of fresh air for House, and he realized that he had unintentionally broken down a barrier for Thirteen which she had struggled for so long to maintain out of fear. Now, it was clear that that barrier was not only weaker in Thirteen's mind, but _almost _unnecessary. Sadly, there would always be a need for the foundational security in being secretly bisexual or gay, but for Thirteen, House was now a very bizarre role model.

Obviously, the idea of being any kind of role model or hero intimidated House, and he had to restrain himself from trying to tell Thirteen to drop the fantasy she'd so quickly developed. He knew she needed some sort of support, but the role model form of support was just something he could never offer.

"Thanks," House finally said quietly, turning away from Thirteen's excited face.

"What? You don't want me to be happy?" she immediately retorted.

"It's not that," House defended, "just don't make it out to be more than it really is. I'm dating Wilson, we like each other, we want to live together. It's a simple idea."

"Only when you put it like that," Cuddy answered sharply, still wearing a proud grin.

"Yeah, well--"

House was interrupted by the elevator dinging, this time opening to reveal two figures who immediately leapt out of the elevator and ran enthusiastically down the hall. The figures had blonde hair which bobbled as they ran, their lab coats fluttering behind them. The sound of heels mixed with shoes thudding against the tile of the hallway as Cameron and Chase greeted House with unusually friendly waves, stopping at the cloister of supporters which were rallying around House. Upon seeing the couple, House could not help but roll his eyes yet again in disbelief. Surely word hadn't spread _that _quickly...

"We heard about Amber," Cameron immediately spoke, panting slightly.

"And we just wanted to say we're here for you," Chase finished her sentence, flashing his uncannily white smile.

"He and Wilson are moving in together!" Thirteen revealed to the newcomers, causing both Cameron and Chase in turn to gasp, gape as widely as their mouths would allow and look at House in a combined form of shock and euphoria.

"House, that's fantastic!" Chase exclaimed.

"You're not worried about Amber?" Cameron asked, clearly voicing her own concerns. "What if she decides bringing your relationship out into the open isn't bad enough?" She placed her hands on her hips as she spoke, shifting her weight to one side as she scrutinized her former boss as if looking at him for the first time.

House sighed, "For the last time," he said exasperatedly, "you don't think I've talked to Wilson about all of this? You think I've just jumped into it without thinking?"

Chase shrugged, "Some people may do that."

"Oh, so now I'm 'some people'?" House mocked in his typical fashion, causing Chase to frown slightly and fall silent.

"Don't worry about me," House said stubbornly. "I've got Wilson for that," he added for good measure. Unfortunately, his comment yielded to more excited hand clapping, gasps and smiles, topped off by four smiling faces.

"No, you can't have my autograph," he quipped, then attempting to push his way through the small mob that had formed. House could not help but feel as though he were some sort of rock-star being bombarded with reporters, and he felt his personal instincts kicking in; he wanted to be alone again. As he continued to try and excuse himself, he stumbled slightly since he did not have his cane for support. He recovered quickly and began to continue walking, only to hear that familiar wooden door creak open several feet behind him, followed by a loud slam and a rhythmic pattern of thudding feet coming towards him.

House turned around to see Wilson coming towards him, wearing his lab coat over his lavender shirt. He felt a bit silly that he hadn't noticed what Wilson was wearing earlier, and he could not help but break into a smile upon seeing that famous shirt.

"Nice shirt," House felt the words leave his mouth before he had even thought of teasing his partner about it. Wilson reached the group of doctors and stopped walking in order to gaze down at his shirt. He shrugged modestly.

"Purple's my color," he quipped.

"Lavender," House teased.

"Is this a new welcoming committee?" Wilson asked, completely puzzled by the group which stood before him, beaming with every ounce of energy they had.

"Apparently there's a heavy irony about dating men: you get all the girls."

Chase threw House an annoyed look which House ignored, while the rest of the group continued to smile, laughing slightly at House's typical remark.

Wilson shrugged again, throwing out his hands, "It doesn't bother me." He looked from House's smiling face to his new fan club, and his eyebrows furrowed in bafflement and even slight embarrassment.

"I don't mean to be rude," he apologized, "but I was planning on taking House out to dinner. And uh," he stammered; he hadn't expected an audience for this speech, "they might give away our table if we don't hurry up." He ran his hand along the back of his neck in his traditional manner whenever he was uneasy.

"In other words," House spoke up, "go away."

The group sighed exasperatedly, gave the couple one last look of encouragement and moved as a single entity towards the elevator, leaving House and Wilson alone.

"Right, so," Wilson said, now directing everything at House, "I was planning on bringing my stuff over to your place tonight. Is that... okay?"

"As long as you don't mind canceling that dinner reservation – we're going to have to order pizza if you plan on unpacking all of your crap tonight."

"Eh, I just said that so we'd be alone," Wilson admitted, blushing despite himself. House chuckled, his shoulders shaking.

"So... pizza?" House then suggested.

"Sure."

"Ah but first," House said, beginning to lead Wilson towards the elevator, "you owe me a new cane."


	10. Finale

Chapter 10

The sound of electronic beeping mixed in with the clattering of packages, chattering of people and the background elevator music of the thrift store overwhelmingly rang throughout Wilson's ears. As the automatic doors slid shut behind him, he nearly leapt out of the way to avoid two children playfully chasing each other down the aisles. He quickly regained his balance, fixing his coat in an attempt to appear nonchalant, simultaneously scanning the store for House. He had quickly hobbled away down aisle nine where, as Wilson began to follow House, he could see a large tub which was filled with miscellaneous umbrella, sticks and canes.

Once Wilson reached the end of the aisle, stopping alongside House, he could not help but laugh. House threw him an annoyed, slightly offended look and then turned his eyes again towards the variety of canes with a look of serious contemplation. Wilson could only continue to smile, looking from the canes to House, and then to the tub once again.

"Whatever happened to that nice smoke shop down the street?"

"Apparently they don't give service to cripples," House said, pulling a metallic cane out from the tub. Once the cane was pulled out all the way, House and Wilson could see that it was supported by four feet. House frowned and quickly shoved the cane back into the tub.

"Shame, really – I was hoping you'd by that one made from a bull. Fits you better than the grandpa cane."

House pulled out a simple, varnished, mahogany cane and twirled it about before offering it to Wilson to hold.

"Where'd you learn to be such a smartass?" House said sardonically as Wilson took the cane in his hands and weighed it. Wilson smiled slightly as he gave back the cane.

"Too heavy," he dismissed.

"You're not carrying it around."

"It'll hurt when you hit me."

House slid the rejected cane into the tub. "Sissy."

"How about that one?" Wilson pointed to cane which resembled the bough of a tree, although varnished and stained with a slightly amber tinge.

House pulled the tree limb out of the bin, setting it down besides him and throwing out his chest.

"Wait, wait, wait," Wilson said, holding up his hands as he stifled a laugh. "You're missing the hat..." he then quickly ran down the corridor between aisles, scanning quickly for a section which sold clothing. He turned left at aisle three, where he found a tub of hats. He then rummaged hurriedly through the tub, finally pulling out a child's safari hat and began to sprint down the aisles once again, stopping at House's feet.

"There," Wilson said triumphantly, panting slightly from his short sprint as he tried to place the hat on House's head. House watched as the childish hat traveled towards his head, and he reflexively held up his hands to thwart Wilson's humiliating attack. The cane in his hand swung wildly as House reflexively warded off Wilson, causing the cane to act as a threatening pendulum before Wilson. Wilson backed off slightly, protecting himself from House's weapon-like cane, breaking into laughter as he stepped away. House felt himself laughing despite himself, secretly embarrassed by the spectacle he and Wilson were creating.

"Put that away," House spluttered, sliding the thick cane back into place, still laughing slightly. Wilson smiled, shrugging as he placed the safari hat on his head and walked off to put it back. He returned to House's side a few minutes later to find House still sorting through the tub of canes.

They sorted through the bin in silence, occasionally pointing out a particularly humorous one, or otherwise one that deserved attention. At last, Wilson pulled out a thin, wooden cane, smiling with excitement as he withdrew it from the pile. As he presented it to his partner, House could see that the handle of the cane was actually a wooden carving of a duck's head, varnished and intricately detailed. House ran his fingers over the top of the cane, feeling the small bumps the carvings of the duck's feathers created.

"Classy," he admitted, tossing the cane up and down in his hand. Wilson lifted his shoulders in a modest shrug, pleased at his finding.

"Fits the Sherlock Holmes in you."

"Then go get me my pipe," House smiled, now twirling the cane between his fingers. Wilson winced slightly as the cane slipped from House's grasp, falling to the floor with a clatter. He shook his head knowingly at House, leaning down to pick up the duck-cane. As he handed it back to House, he felt his stomach rumble.

"So, are you buying it?" Wilson prompted.

House studied the cane from top to bottom, especially looking at the duck's head. After a moment's consideration, he finally began to walk towards the checkout stand, using the cane as he hobbled away.

Wilson raised his eyebrows in a moment's disbelief, but then hurriedly followed after his partner, withdrawing his wallet as he walked. Yet as he reached the check-stand, he noticed House had already withdrawn his wallet and was beginning the transaction for his new cane. Wilson gave a double-take, but did not press the matter for the protection of his pocketbook, sliding his wallet back into his pocket.

As House happily left the thrift store, his new cane faithfully standing at his side, he threw Wilson the car keys and prepared for a long night of unpacking. It was amazing that a man who had been living off and on at a hotel could still own so much junk, and House shook his head as he slid into the passenger's seat of the car, checking to make sure that the piles of boxes in the backseat hadn't shifted around earlier.

Once the duo reached 221B Baker St., House leapt out of his car and hurriedly went to open his door. He had heard Wilson's stomach protesting for food earlier, and his own stomach was now complaining about lack of food. As his door swung open, he immediately headed to the kitchen, grabbing the phone from its stand and punching the speed dial for the local pizzeria. Wilson stood dumbfounded in the cold of night outside, his hands on his hips, House's car keys dangling from his index finger. He sighed and opened the back door to House's car, pulling out the closest box with the intention of carrying it inside. He let out a grunt as he embraced the first box of junk and began to slowly carry the package up House's front steps and into his house.

He allowed the box to fall to the floor in House's living room with a loud crash, cringing slightly as he hoped he hadn't shattered his only kitchenware. Wilson then heard the sound of House's phone hitting the receiver as House entered the living room to check on Wilson. Wilson bent down over his box, frantically attempting to open the box as House stopped before him, towering over Wilson with a tantalizing grin on his face. Wilson noticed the kneecaps of House's jeans at eye level, and he felt his fingers fumble with the lid of the box (which was still taped shut) as he looked up at House. The angle at which he was sitting before House gave him the appearance of a giant, and Wilson felt himself craning his neck in order to look at House properly.

"Thanks for helping," he said, still squinting at House.

"Hope you like pepperoni," House replied cheerfully, "or do you still keep kosher?"

Wilson clicked his tongue and sighed, looking away from House as he continued to try ripping open the box. He waited for House's footsteps to recede as he expected him to walk away, but House's jeans remained as close to Wilson as they had been a moment ago. Wilson stopped tackling the box in confusion, looking up at House once again.

Their gazes met, and Wilson felt a strain of sexual tension arise in their looks. House's smirk danced playfully on his face, his eyebrows seemed to be raised slightly from the angle at which Wilson was looking. Wilson felt himself blush and stare at the box, although he didn't waste his time with trying to open the box without scissors. After a moment, he arose from his squatting position, removing his coat as he stood and throwing it onto the couch.

The box remained between the duo, acting as a taunting barrier between them. House's smile turned into a serious stare, piercing Wilson with a newfound determination. Wilson felt as though he were being x-rayed, and blinked rapidly in an attempt to break the tension. He backed away slightly, planning to head outside and grab the next box in House's car. House did not protest, nor did his expression change, and he continued to follow Wilson as he slowly turned around, walked down the steps and headed towards his car. He stood at the doorway while Wilson stuck his head into the backseat, rummaged through the boxes for a moment, then took a minute's pause. He then emerged from the car empty-handed, looking meaningfully at House with his hands resting on his hips in frustration.

"Unloading boxes isn't a spectator's sport," he remarked.

House said nothing, trying with all of his might not to crack a smile.

Upon seeing that House was unmoved by his prompt, Wilson sighed, slamming the car door shut and locking it. He proceeded to walk back up House's front steps, sliding past a grinning House in the doorway. He brushed House's chest as he slid by and felt his breath on his right cheek. He felt his heart flutter slightly as he reentered the living room, standing squarely in the center of the room. House emerged from the main hallway shortly after Wilson heard the front door slam shut, and Wilson's heart rate only continued to increase.

The couple stood awkwardly in the living room for a moment, silent except for the slight creaking of the house and the buzzing in their ears. In a desperate attempt to break this heavy silence, Wilson threw out his hands, ungluing his lips which had been pressed firmly together as he spoke,

"I'm guessing you don't want to help me unpack?"

"Just watching you carry those boxes made me sore."

"Well, I can't leave them out in your car all night--"

"You don't have anything valuable, what're you worrying about?"

"Okay, okay I just want something to do," Wilson admitted. "Happy?"

"No," House said, walking past Wilson towards the couch, snatching up the remote control as he passed by the small coffee table. Wilson spun around, watching House snap on the TV.

"Then what do you want?" Wilson sputtered exasperatedly. House ignored him as he plopped himself onto the couch, immediately entering a dazed, hypnotic state as he watched the news blare on the screen. Wilson scoffed, beginning to walk to the couch. As he reached House's side, he moved his coat from the seat and placed it on the armrest opposite House as he sat down. He left a modest space between himself and House, placing his hands awkwardly in his lap as he tried to fix his gaze on the anchormen reciting the news. Yet, he could not help but throw small, sideways glances at House, slowly sinking into the couch as he allowed himself to become more and more relaxed, at last settling into House's shoulder. House had not taken off his leather jacket when he came in, and Wilson smelt the leather as his cheek rested on House's shoulder. Although he was entirely comfortable, the position itself was very uncomfortable, and he continued to shift like an impatient child, trying to get House's attention. At last, House blinked and looked at Wilson, who sat up in order to prompt House to remove his jacket.

House rolled his eyes as he fumbled for his jacket zipper. He then unceremoniously set his jacket on his closest armrest, revealing a simple red t-shirt underneath. Wilson looked down at his own attire, admiring the way his lavender shirt simultaneously clashed and blended in with House's red shirt. He slipped off his loafers, revealing black socks as he propped his feet up on House's coffee table. House, in turn, pulled off his own shoes, throwing the pair of red converse across the room, where they hit the hardwood floor with a series of thuds. His feet rested comfortably alongside Wilson's on the coffee table, wiggling goofily in order to make Wilson laugh.

Wilson bit his lip to hold back his laughter, adjusting his position on the couch so that his head traveled from House's bony shoulder to his welcoming lap, curling himself up into a slight ball in order to fit lengthwise along the couch. He stared blissfully at the TV screen, although he was not entirely taking in the visual and audio information being thrown at him. Instead, he realized he was rather focusing on the comfort of House's leg against his head. After a few moments, he recognized the spine-chilling touch of House's fingertips which were now resting on his arm, sliding calmly from his shoulder to his wrist and back, occasionally creeping down his back, tracing random patterns as he watched the news.

House's fingers continued to venture down his back, running along the crevice formed by his back muscles at his spine, and Wilson sighed happily. As House's caresses slowly ceased, Wilson turned onto his back, sliding his head up against the armrest of the couch so he could engage in conversation with House. He slipped his hands behind his head as he let out a relaxed breath of air, looking at House with a grin playing on his face. House threw him a sideways grin before setting his gaze back on the TV. Wilson frowned slightly, a childish form of jealousy stirring in his chest. He began to protest as the doorbell rang. He jumped as reality seemed to seep in through the door with the sound of the bell, and couldn't help but scowl as he stood up to allow House to answer the door.

House returned about five minutes later holding two boxes of pizza. The smell wafted throughout the room, and Wilson's empty stomach prompted him to take a box from House and carry it into the living room, where he set it down on the coffee table. House copied him, setting down his box beside Wilson's, throwing the top open and snatching two large slices of pepperoni.

The duo ate hungrily as House flipped through the channels on the TV. Wilson realized as the night wore on that the last thing on his mind was the TV, and he often found himself staring with an annoyed look on his face whenever House changed the channel. He often broke the silences between bites as he gossiped about the latest affairs within the hospital, the oddities of certain people such as the famous eleven-fingered intern and other oddities that caused House to spit out his soda, spraying Wilson as he burst out in laughter.

After about an hour, House and Wilson lay on the couch with two empty pizza boxes and several bottles of soda, one of which was still fizzing as a result of being knocked over by Wilson's foot. Wilson had never felt so at home before, and he savored the feeling as much as he savored House's company. It wasn't a feeling of greedy satisfaction that he resided in a home with a TV, stereo and other luxuries, but a feeling of relief and happiness that he shared a home with House. He wasn't a guest watching his every step in case he knocked something over, or risked himself getting thrown out. He belonged here as a second body, a second beating heart within this welcoming place of residence. Of course, no one else besides House could probably ever see this place as "welcoming", but that only added a sense of pride in Wilson's chest – he could see something special within this cavern that no one else would ever even attempt to look for.

Wilson stretched and yawned wildly, throwing out his arms as he took in air. He then rubbed his eyes slowly, glancing down at his watch in curiosity. His eyes widened slightly as he read the time: 11:30. How was it that time had gone by so quickly? He slowly got up from the couch, still rubbing his eyes and scratching his head as he walked, grudgingly heading towards House's bedroom. As he arrived at House's bedside, he realized his clothes were still in boxes in his car. He groaned, dismissing the idea of going outside to retrieve his belongings, promptly poking his head through the doorway to yell to House down the hall.

"House," he yelled sleepily.

"What?" a groaning voice from the living room responded. Wilson then heard the sound of feet hitting the floor as House rose from the couch to follow Wilson into the bedroom. The couple stood sleepily in the doorway, blinking heavily.

"Can I borrow your clothes for the night?"

"Go get your stuff."

"I'm not going outside to dig through boxes at 11:30 at night."

"11:32."

"Still not going. Can I borrow your clothes?"

House sighed, rubbing his eyes in order to stay awake. "Fine," he agreed, "if it makes you happy."

Wilson smiled sleepily and headed for House's drawers. After rummaging through them for several minutes, he found a care-worn undershirt and pajama pants and disappeared into the bathroom. He emerged a few minutes later to find House already changed, wearing sweats and a t-shirt. Despite their mutual exhaustion, a sense of excitement mingled in the air; before now, this present moment was something which occasionally appeared in a dream, if either of them were lucky.

Wilson shifted uncomfortably where he stood, scratching his head sleepily as he felt himself yawn once again. As he opened his eyes, he found House's face inches from his, giving him a sly, yet deeply meaningful look. Wilson blushed slightly as he smiled back, all weariness temporarily vanishing as his heart began to race. He felt House's hand sliding gently along his face, traveling to his neck, chin and back again, causing him to shiver slightly in euphoria. As House leaned in to kiss him, Wilson felt himself falling backwards onto the bed, landing with the squealing of bedsprings.

House sat down on the bed, chuckling slightly. Wilson glared at him as he lay on his back, still bouncing slightly from the impact with the mattress. House leaned over him, gradually twisting himself so that he lay on top of Wilson, smothering him with kisses. Wilson felt slightly overwhelmed at first – House had never been this passionate before, albeit the chance had never truly provided itself. But for the first time, Wilson was entirely at ease with the whole concept; there was no fear in his heart that someone would walk in on them, nor did it really matter anymore if someone did. He could share House's excitement freely, and certainly allowed himself the indulgence.

House's scratchy face rubbed against his own as Wilson traced his face in kisses, occasionally traveling down his neck. He could smell House's mustiness, and his large hands felt calm and relaxing against his own skin, although obviously unlike anyone's hand he'd felt before. His hand sank into the back of House's neck, and his fingers fumbled with his wiry grey hair, bringing back memories of that wonderful scene in his office only a few days ago. It felt so right to be there with House, basking in their bliss as House's clock ticked 12:00 in the morning.

As House continued to kiss Wilson, Wilson couldn't help but let out another yawn mid-kiss, which at first, House embraced as a bizarre kiss, but then faltered from, groaning from the amount of released carbon dioxide. Wilson couldn't help but laugh as he muttered, "Sorry."

House completely ignored him, providing the opportunity to attack Wilson's open mouth as Wilson's hand traveled down House's back, barely grazing his upper leg. House twitched slightly, and it took Wilson to realize his hand had been venturing towards House's infarction. He felt guilty as he returned his hand to House's back, tracing circles there in order to relax House again. Eventually, the duo lay there, panting slightly as sleepiness finally began to overtake them. They lay atop of the bedcovers, adjusting themselves as a single entity so that they lay on their sides, Wilson embracing House. Wilson's fingers slid gently from House's shoulder down to his fingertips as they sighed happily.

"Thanks House," Wilson finally spoke at last, his voice echoing in House's ear.

"Hm?" House grunted, his eyes half open.

"For waiting for me," Wilson prompted.

House breathed deeply through his nostrils, causing his chest to heave and his shoulders to raise as he sank himself deeper into Wilson's chest.

"It was worth it," he responded at last.

With that, Wilson lightly kissed the back of House's head as they closed their eyes, and entered a dreamless sleep. A new life awaited them in the morning, full of new opportunities, whether for better or worse and at last, they were ready for it.


End file.
